Fasting once more, his body was at ease and free to just be—each organ meditating like a little monk within him—even that muscle they call a heart slowed to a turtle’s pace. Unshackled from his everyday habits, he napped in the afternoon and awoke in the dark. It didn’t even occur to him to stretch or yawn. When he walked across the floor to get a glass of water, he felt like his shape—his collection of atoms—was just sweet, lazy vapor. Somewhere on the warmer part of the continent , the flowers were nodding in approval.